Who Am I, an essay by Sofia Torres
by TechnoGryffin
Summary: A 17 year old Sofia has to write an essay for English. All she has to answer is a very simple question. Who am I?


A/N - So I have been wanting to do a story from Sofia's POV for a while. And this is what I came up with.

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><p>"Hey, baby girl." Arizona smiled when she saw her 17 year old daughter walking though the door after her soccer practice. "How was practice?" She pulled a chicken out of the oven. She might not have been the best cook when she and Callie got married, but all these years later she learned.<p>

"Hi, Mom." Sofia tossed her bag on the table, still wearing her practice uniform. "I'm going to go grab a quick shower before dinner. Where are Danny and Archer?"

"Both are with Callie. They needed new shoes for their concert and she wanted to talk them tonight." Arizona turned around, kissing Sofia's cheek as she walked by. After checking the progress of the chicken, she called to her daughter, who was out of eat shot, "And Sofia, I told you not to put that bag on the table."

Moving the bag, Arizona soon found it it was open, with two notebooks spilling out. One spilled an essay with an A on it onto the floor. "Who am I?, by Sofia Torres," She muttered, picking the paper off the floor and looking it over.

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><p><em>I ask questions. It's what I do. I guess I'm a lot like my mom in that respect. I don't like not knowing something. I have asked a lot of simple questions in my life. May I have cake for dinner? May I go swimming before lunch? May I have a new bike for my birthday? All these questions could be answered with a simple yes or no. I've asked harder questions, too. Why are there wars fought over something as stupid as to which god we pray? Why do people have to die? Why does it matter what your last name is? None of those can be answered with a yes or a no. They are hard questions, but I managed somehow to get an answer that I accepted.<em>

_But the question "Who am I?" That question is the hardest of all. I am a lot of things: a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend. It depends on whom you ask, as to whom I am to them. I guess in the strictest sense, I am 5 feet, 8 inches; 130 pounds; a soccer player; the daughter of Arizona Robbins, Calliope Torres, Mark Sloan, and the step-daughter of Lexie Grey; and the sister of Daniel Timothy Robbins II, Archer Greyson Robbins, and Mark Vincent Sloan, Jr. But those are only fact, not fully whom I am._

_I am funny sometimes and a perfectionist most of the time. I hate peanuts, but I love peanut butter. I have reddish-brown hair and the same shade of brown eyes as my mom. I'm a better drawer than most of my family. I am the person in my family to whom people talk, the person who tries to fix others' problems. I am the person in my family people find when they need to talk without being judged. I don't have the right to judge others because I don't want them to judge me. I'm an artist at heart. I draw, mostly. People, things, you name it, I most likely have drawn it. I'm pretty good, or at least that's what I'm told, and it's a good way to relax. I like to play guitar and write music. Also, I really like to read about history. I am good at math and great at puzzles._

_I am the daughter of four amazing surgeons. Four people who walk into their hospital every day and save people, or at the very least try. I learned so much from growing up watching them work, watching them have the weight of the people under their care on their shoulders. I am a product of them and their teachings. You can't know whom I am without knowing them. _

_My mom, Dr. Arizona Robbins, is whom I want to be when I grow up. She is my best friend and one of my personal heroes. She is everything I hope to be one day. She is the backbone of the family. She is the one who taught me how to be different and happy about it. She is the person, along with my Madre and Lexie, who showed me what being a woman and a good person is. She was born into a family that expected everyone with their last name to be a good man in a storm and I know no one who is a better man in the storm than Mom. She loves books and learning and knowledge. She taught me how to be smart and not be a show off. She also showed me how to take criticism, something I admit I don't do well. She was the one who, while Madre was making big plans, took care of the details. I love like my mom. I walk like my mom. I think like my mom. I am a part of her and she is a part of my even though we share no DNA. She is as much my mother as the woman who gave birth to me._

_My other mom, my madre, is Dr. Calliope Torres. She is the one who always makes sure everyone is all right. She is the one who would come into my room when I was little when there was going to be a thunderstorm. She'd pick me up and carry me into her room and then go get my brother and sister, who hated thunderstorms as much as I did. She would put us between her and Mom and every time we got scared, she would hold us close and make jokes until it was better. She would never yell at us for intruding on a good night's sleep no matter how early she had to get up the next day for work. She was the one who always made sure we got the one on one time we all needed. My madre and I have the same temper. When she and I fight (not very often, but it happens), it's a full war. We don't stop until we win. It's a good habit in some ways, but not when you are having an argument. But I think each of us having the other has helped both of us lean to curb it._

_When I was a little girl, my father, Dr. Mark Sloan, was my hero. He was the guy who would lift me up on his shoulders or pick me up and pretend I was a plane. He was the fun one. The one who made sure I had ice cream before dinner and always got a little bit bigger piece of cake than an 8 year old had any right to eat. The older I got, though, the less he spoiled me and the more he started teaching me things. He is my hero and the man I respect more than anyone else because he showed me what life is. It's about enjoying your family and friends, going for a run after a hard day, finding the person with whom you are meant to be, and being with that person in the end even if things don't go well. He taught me what it meant to use your second chances. He taught me how to stand up for people who were being bullied. He taught me how to put a near invisible suture into someone. He and I have the same smile and the same nose. We laugh the same and we both love before we look. He might not be everyone's idea for whom my father should be or what he should be, but he was a great father when it mattered and when I needed him._

_My step mom, Dr. Lexie Grey, is the one who keeps us all talking to each other. She's the one who understands everything that's happening. She's the one who stands between my dad and whichever one of my moms he pissed off that week and gets them to act like adults. She's the peace keeper. She was the one who didn't really have to be in my life. Not after everything my father did before they finally settled it all and got married. That's another essay and more fitting for a psych class. She is smart and strong and keeps me from doing stupid stuff because, unlike my moms, she doesn't talk to me like I'm 9 and will always be her little girl. She talks to me like an adult and always has. She also gave me a little brother who is the coolest 9 year old in the world. _

_I have 3 siblings who are really in my life and some who aren't and I really don't know. I have a boyfriend who keeps me sane during family events when I want to rip my hair out and who rubs my calves after soccer matches when I want to drop. They are a part of whom I am, too. They are people who have shaped the woman I am. They make me better, push me to work harder. _

_I have a family that loves each other, that picks on each other, but is always there for each other. I guess that answers the question. For once, I don't know how well I did, but I do know that writing this has proved to me once more something that Erma Bombeck said: "The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together."_

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><p><em>I am, at my core, as everyone else is: a work in progress.<em>

Arizona smiled softly as she finished reading the essay. "You should show this to Callie, Mark, and Lexie. I think they would enjoy reading it as much as I did," she told Sofia when she reentered the kitchen.

"Yeah? You think it's pretty good?" Sofia blushed a little bit, looking at the paper in her mom's hands. When she wrote it, she had hoped it didn't come off as too sentimental. She had made sure her parents didn't see it up until this point. "I'll make sure they see it. Thanks, Mom."

Arizona went back to making dinner, a smile on her lips as she worked. Even if Sofia hadn't come into being the way that Arizona wanted, she had grown up to be one hell of a woman.


End file.
